Risen
by the green lama
Summary: She is an Elf mourning a lost friend. He is a prince of men. He flees North, thought dead by his people, and the woods of Lothlorien seem like ideal shelter, until he brought to Caras Galadhon. There, an intriguing Elfmaiden is appointed his guide. AU!
1. Chapter 1: Mithra

**Disclaimer:** I only made up Mithra, Eleniel and Mathas. The idea for this story was my own, but everything else is Tolkein's.

**A/N: **This is my first fic, so I hope you enjoy it! I hope somebody will read this and leave me a review! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please, don't be nasty.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 1: Mithra**

Mithra sighed. It had been a long day. In the past, the peace and tranquility of Lothlorien had been soothing, but now the quiet was agonising and the loneliness was overwhelming. The fellowship from Rivendell had left weeks ago, taking the playful young halflings with them. The laughter of Merry, Pippin, Sam and even, from time to time, Frodo, had lifted the darkness that was overshadowing Lorien, and their cheerful voices had brought joy to her heart.

Even the Men and the Dwarf had been a welcome breath of fresh air. They spoke of great cities of the South and of great works of their people, people Mithra longed to meet, cities she longed to see.

Mithra was not like the other Elves of Lothlorien. Some of her qualities were more human than elvish, as her quick temper, inquisitive character and dislike of singing often displayed. She took little pleasure from nature and music, delighting rather in words and dreams of faraway places she read so frequently of in books.

"Mithra?" She looked up to see Eleniel, one of the Lady Galadriel's maidens, watching her from the doorway of her home: a small couple of rooms built on a wooden platform around one of the tall mallorn trees.

She could not help but harbour a small dislike for Eleniel. She was an example of a perfect elf-maiden: tall and fair, waist length golden hair, wise blue eyes set in a beautiful, proud face. Her pure white gown was impossible to look at for too long in the bright sunlight. Mithra felt rather small and insignificant dressed in dull green, but she had never understood or felt the need to look radiant in white all of the time. The colour had never really suited her anyway.

"Eleniel." She nodded. The elf seemed to glide into the room, her gown glistening as she moved.

"I come bearing good news," she said. Her voice was deep and melodic, and the elvish tongue she spoke with made it sound even lovelier than it really was. "The wounded warriors that returned from the battle at Helm's Deep are all hopeful. Many of them may yet live to pass across the Sea."

Mithra put an expression on her face that she hoped looked glad. She knew she seemed selfish when so many of her kinsmen had suffered, but there was only one she truly cared for, only one. She forced back the tears that wanted to spill down her cheeks.

The slight smile on Eleniel's face faded to be replaced with a look of mild pity.

"I'm sorry, Mithra." She laid a slender white hand on Mithra's shoulder in an effort to comfort her. "All who knew him loved him, he is sorely missed."

She was talking about Mathas, the Elf that had once been Mithra's guardian and mentor. Only weeks ago, he had marched away to battle in Rohan, never to return.

Mithra didn't say anything. She sat on the edge of a couch with her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"We cannot linger forever in a frozen moment," Eleniel said. "The river of time flows on; you must let yourself be swept along with it, or dwell eternally in an age of pain. Your life will carry on as it once was."

Mithra wondered at the lack of comfort or understanding in words from one seemingly in possession of so much wisdom. Mathas had been her life: her teacher, her only family, her special friend. What happiness could exist without him?

"Mathas' life has come at last to a sorry end," Eleniel continued, "But I know he would not have you mourn for him. You are fully grown now, and accomplished in both body and mind. You have by nature a strong character and you must use this strength to banish your grief."

"Thank you for your kind words, my lady," Mithra said, though she could think of many things that Eleniel could have done to make them a little more sensitive.

"We shall see you smiling again, ere the high summer comes," the Lady's maiden said. Mithra was not certain whether this was an instruction or a hope and did not trust herself to reply. Standing slowly, she bowed her head again in reverence and watched Eleniel leave.

As soon as her visitor had disappeared from view behind the golden leaves, Mithra half ran into her bedroom and threw herself onto her bed. A single solitary tear rolled down her cheek, dampening the pillow.

No measure was made of the time she laid there motionless, running memories through her head. Happy memories, yet painful to her. Wiping the tears out of her eyes at length, she sat up. The sun was drawing its last rays away over the mountains, but they still glistened, shining on the polished wood of her carved bedposts. Small faces were hidden in-between the typically Elvish designs of trees and flowers. Their clear mirth unsettled Mithra: they appeared to be laughing at her. She scowled in reply.

"And you can stop your grinning," she muttered.

The faces didn't change and she threw a pillow at them with all the strength she could muster, crying out in frustration, anger and grief.

"He promised he would come back!" she told them. "He promised!"

The carvings continued to smile at her, unheeding, and she turned away, folding her arms in her temper. New tears formed only to be blinked away furiously, but Mithra's mind was filling with memories again. Her thoughts went back to the most painful parting she had ever been through.

"I'll come back to you, Mithra," Mathas had told her, holding her in his arms. She wept into the cold, unfamiliar armour of his shoulder and clung to him desperately. "One day," he continued, "We'll go walking together in the woods, just like we always used to."

"Promise to come back," she whispered.

Mathas smiled. "You have my word of honour."

Honour. Mathas had always held honour and nobility in positions of great importance in his life. He encouraged her to be like him, though now she was reluctant to possess the qualities that had made him so eager to go to battle.

"You've got to have dignity, Mithra! A little pride in yourself never hurt anyone!"

A small smile graced her lips; she had heard those words so many times. Hugging her knees under her chin, Mithra let her eyelids droop.

A minute later, they snapped open again as more of Mathas' words came to her. Now that she was a beautiful young (as far as the Elves were concerned) maiden of much intellect and virtue, he had told her countless times, without him, who would protect her when the suitors started arriving?

**A/N: **Don't worry; it gets more light-hearted as you get further in… I promise! Now please, please send me a review!

lama :D


	2. Chapter 2: Lorien

**A/N: **Thanks to anybody who's sent me a review! You're among my first! Hope this installment will keep you interested for a while, and please let me know what you think afterwards.

Without further ado...

**Chapter 2: Lorien**

The woods had changed, he could feel it. The trees were taller, and around him there was unnatural silence. He sat down and looked around him, resting his back against one of the strange trees. He had been walking all week with little food or shelter, and he'd been lucky to escape the keen eyes of Eomer's riders that had arrived at the battlefield, searching for their prince's body.

All his life, he had heard fireside fairy tales of the magical lady of the woods of Lothlorien. She was evil, some said, beautiful but evil. He had dismissed the stories with a wave of his hand. Elvish magic did not scare him; he did not believe in it to begin with. Yet there was still something strange about these woods. They seemed… unnatural. No forests in Rohan were this quiet.

In his early life, he had always aimed to stay away from these woods. Why was he here now, he asked himself? As magical and weird as they were, the tall golden trees gave wonderful shelter after the open plains, and from the sight of orcs.

Despite the silence and his paranoid checks of the woodland around him, he could not help but feel he was being watched. He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Had he just seen something? He moaned and put his head in his hands. What was he turning into? He'd never been worried like this before.

"Stand up."

He froze, cursing in his head. He looked up at the speaker. An elf, no…he counted quickly…eight elves. Tall and fair, they seemed to glow with a white light, their legendary pointed ears showing through their long, straight hair.

"Stand up," their leader repeated. He rose slowly, showing the palms of his hands in a gesture of peace. Their bows didn't move; the arrows nocked firmly in each one stayed still. However many battles he had fought in, the prospect of eight Wood Elves each pointing an arrow at his chest was not a nice one.

"Where are you from?" The elf's piercing blue eyes looked into his own, cold and severe. The arrows stayed nocked in their bows.

"Rohan," he said quickly. "The city of Edoras."

"Why are you here?"

"I-" he paused.

"Why are you here?" There was an element of anger in that stern, commanding voice, and he answered quickly.

"I seek shelter here."

"You wish to stay with the elves?" The piercing stare was highly intimidating.

"Or I could always return to Edoras."

"Return to Rohan?" The elf smirked. The anger in his voice had been replaced with a slight element of humour. "Oh, I don't think returning home is really an option."

He didn't say anything. He hadn't thought it would be, to be honest.

The elf turned to one of his companions.

"Bind his hands," he commanded. "We are taking him to the Lady."

A female elf behind him lowered her bow and looked at him in shock.

"Bring _him_ to Caras Gladhorn?" she asked in their native tongue. "You cannot be serious, unless you have messages from Imladris of this one too."

Their prisoner looked at them blankly, unable to understand a word they were saying.

"He _will_ be brought to the Lord and Lady," the first elf said confidently. "Passing over the borders of Lorien is not an act to be taken lightly. Once you do so, there is no going back on your decision."

The female eyed him sternly. She nodded at length, though still doubtful.

"Very well," she said in the common, raising her bow once more.

At a nod from their leader, a tall dark haired elf stepped forward to bind the prisoner's hands before blindfolding him.

"None but our own kin may look upon the entrance to the city in Lothlorien," he said in explanation.

The Rohirric prisoner was starting to wonder of there were some elements of truth in the old stories of this land. The elves' speech was slightly unnerving to one who was unfamiliar with it, but, it seemed, it was too late now.

As his last glance of the woodland was obscured by the blindfold, he heard the leading elf speak again.

"You are brave indeed, young man," he said. "For no man of Rohan has dared enter this land for many a year."

The man shuffled uncomfortably, unsure whether to take this as a compliment.

He was led away with a steady hand on his shoulder, but instantly tripped over a stray root.

These woods just kept getting better and better.

_(-End of chapter 2-)_

Please leave me a review, and thanks for reading!

lama xxx


	3. Chapter 3: The Visitor

**A/N:** Thanks very much for any reviews! They really make my day! I'm off school for easter now, somaybe you'll get lots of updates, maybe you won't, but I'll find time to do lots of writing this week, that's for certain.

Here's Chapter 3... enjoy!

**Chapter 3: The Visitor**

As much as she disliked Eleniel, Mithra decided to heed her words. As oppose to sitting on her bed all day moping around and wasting time, she took to wandering through the woods by herself, basking in the delights of nature. Spring had almost turned into summer, so the sun always shone, casting dancing images on the grass as it fell through the leaves high above her head.

Mithra had barely spoken to anybody since she'd seen Eleniel two days ago, but she was always aware of them watching her. She knew the Elves were anxious about her, she had known ever since overhearing Nelendor, a counselor of Celeborn, talking to Mathas about her many years ago. _Unstable_ had been one of the words to stick in her memory, though some more particularly memorable ones were _easily-angered, human characteristics, _and even _foolish. _She had laughed as loudly as she dared, and, needless to say, Mathaspaid little attention tothe words of his superior.

She quickly lost her trail of thought as she saw an unusual sight. Nelendor himself, the very Elf she'd been thinking about, had just passed though the main city entrance with his patrol. In the middle of the group of Elves, there was another figure: a human man, from the look of him.

She saw san elven archer remove his blindfold and untie his hands, but could not get close enough to see him in much detail.

"The Lady has requested to see you," she heard Nelendor say, before leading the man up a flight of stairs.

Mithra was torn. She watched Nelendor and the man climb the stairs, getting further and further away from her, with a look of intense longing. She desperately wanted to know who the man was and what he was doing in Lorien, having immensely enjoyed her time with Boromir and Aragorn, but it was only mid-afternoon, the sun was shining, and the _elinor_ flowers were in bloom: she could almost hear the woods calling to her, begging to walk in them just for a little longer. Mithra tore her gaze away from the trees, looked back up the stairs and made a hasty decision. Biting her lip and knowing she would regret it somehow, she gathered up her skirts and set off up the stairs after Nelendor.

Galadriel's platform was deserted. Apart from Mithra and the man, only the usual guards and hand maidens of the Lady witnessed the entry of Galadriel and Celeborn. Mithra had seen this impressive sight many times before, so only now did she get the chance to study the man in great detail.

He was a soldier- that much was clear. His armour was ornate and richly decorated, hinting that he was of aimportant rank, and he held himself with all the pride and nobility of high birth. He was tall and broad, muscular and strong-looking, with a sheathed sword hanging by his side. As he looked around at his surroundings, Mithra saw his face for the first time. He was handsome, very much so, in fact. Awe was written across his tanned features, and long dark hair surrounded a face in which were set two shining brown eyes, like stars twinkling in a dark sky.

"What is your name, young man?" Galadriel asked him. Mithra glanced at her in confusion- the Lady gave the impression she knew everything about everybody without having to ask. "You see, Mithra here would like to know."

Mithra was startled at being brought into the conversation like this. The man turned round quickly and looked into her eyes, making her knees feel rather weak all of a sudden. She had never known a pair of eyes, however attractive they may be, to have such an effect on her before.

"My name?" he asked.

She nodded. He glanced back at Galadriel, clearly reluctant to give it away.

"Will not you tell us?" the cold voice of Nelendor asked, reminding Mithra of his presence.

"It's Theodred," he said quietly, "Son of King Theoden of Rohan."

Celeborn raised an eyebrow. Galadriel smiled, her eyes twinkling. Mithra had heard of this Theodred, stories had reached lands this far away from his home of his accomplishments in battle.

"And what are you doing here?" Nelendor asked. His austere expression had not shifted.

"I was travelling and needed rest," he said. "The trees seemed like the obvious place to shelter, I had not the energy to defend myself against any orcs that might have found me out in the open."

"I thought all men of Rohan feared this land," Mithra said. Theodred glanced back at her with a small smile.

"Only foolish men of Rohan," he told her, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Where were you travelling to?" Celeborn asked, his deliberate, slow tones so familiar to Mithra yet so frustrating.

"Nowhere in particular," the young prince said.

"Then why did you leave your homeland to wander alone in the wilderness?"

Galadriel spoke for him before he had a chance to answer.

"He has lost faith in Rohan and its king," she said softly. A pained expression flitted into Theodred's eyes, matching the sorrow in the Lady's.

"Rohan isn't Rohan any more," he said sadly. "It's not the Rohan I was born in. The king that rules there now is no longer the man I have followed all my life."

"So you ran away?" Nelendor concluded.

"I _left_," Theodred corrected.

"But with so few provisions? And in your full battle armour?"

"I left from the scene of a battle." Theodred said. "No, I did not desert," he added, taking the words out of Nelendor's mouth with a steely glare.

Before the Elf could reply with more unwanted questions, Galadriel spoke.

"Only now you are gone will you be needed the most," she said sadly. "Your people think you are dead." This came as a sore blow to him, Mithra could see.

"I did not mean them pain," he muttered.

"But you have caused it," Galadriel continued. "You believed your father's love for you was spent, but now that he thinks his line is ended, his love for you will shine through. Your cousins, also, will struggle. They have problems enough from Wormtongue without your departure."

Theodred said no more.

"Mithra," Celeborn called. She stepped forward and bowed her head. She could feel the man's eyes on her again. "This man is granted permission to stay in Lorien for as long as he wishes. I believe there is an empty room near your accommodation. He may rest there and will be brought food and water."

Mithra knew the room they meant, and in spite of being in the presence of figures of such importance, she forgot herself temporarily.

"But that is Mathas' room!" she cried.

"It _was_ Mathas' room," Nelendor corrected. "Do as you are asked, girl."

Theodred looked at her with pity in his eyes, sensing her clear distress. He also saw no need for his captor's cold address of her. If the Lord and Lady of the Wood could call her by her name, he didn't see why the other Elf couldn't.

Mithra curtseyed and nodded, forcing herself to remember her place: shouting at Nelendor would get her nowhere. She could see Eleniel standing behind Galadriel with a look of concern on her face, but tried to push all unwelcome thoughts out of her mind.

"Very well, my lord, my lady" she said meekly.

She motioned for Theodred to follow her and he bowed to Celeborn and Galadriel (but deliberately not to Nelendor) before doing so.

Mithra sighed deeply. From the joys of nature to a prince of the Rohirrim. Was there any familiarity or routine in life any more?

(-End of Chapter 3-)

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Now please leave me a review! Ta!**

the green lama


	4. Chapter 4: Getting to Know You

**A/N: **Hey! Thanks again to anybody who's reviewed this story! Please keep at it- getting reviews really makes my day. Here's chapter 4 for you... Enjoy!

**Chapter 4: Getting to Know You**

Once Theodred viewed it through the eyes of a free man, Lothlorien was a beautiful place. He stood still for a moment, lingering in the warm sun of the afternoon, taking in the beauty around him. Then his guide entered his sight.

"My name is Mithra," she said. "Kindly don't walk too slowly, or I shall be forced to leave you behind and you will have to find yourself another guide."

Picking up his pace, Theodred grinned. She led him across a narrow wooden bridge, but he tried to keep a small distance behind her to enable himself to watch her.

She was beautiful. Her slender, shapely figure was clothed in dark green satin that perfectly suited her dark hair. He let his eyes linger onthe dark brown coloured, thick, shining tresses, reaching to a few inches above her elbows: perfect hair, he thought. She glanced over her shoulder at him and tutted in frustration.

"Keep up, will you!" she said, stopping to wait for him.

Walking beside her, Theodred took the opportunity to study her face carefully, and he took in everything about her, from the delicate features to the deep green eyes to the full red lips she was now pressing tightly together.

"Why do you insist on staring at me?" she asked upon catching him looking.

"I think you are lovely," he told her, much to her amusement.

"Lovely? You took little time in coming to that conclusion, did you?"

"Well, it hardly takes more than a few seconds to determine whether or not a woman is lovely, and if she is I see no point in hiding that fact from her."

Mithra smiled at him. "You are an interesting young man," she told him. "Few men I have had the pleasure of meeting possess such simple logic, and when they do, they seldom put it into practice."

Theodred grinned. "I guess that's just one of my many qualities."

"Many qualities, eh? What are some of your others then?"

"Show you my qualities?" he asked. She nodded, smiling with the air of one who knew something he didn't and was deliberately hiding it from him.

"Well," he began, "I'm a good public speaker, I'm a strong soldier and military leader, and the ladies say I'm a charmer."

"Oh really?" Mithra glanced at him.

"Yes, really. But the best thing about me is that I'm a man of Rohan."

Mithra eyed him disbelievingly. "You're serious. That's the best thing about you."

"Of course." He was smiling proudly. "Rohan is the best place in Middle Earth."

"I beg to differ!" she exclaimed. "Poor, disillusioned fellow! What you have seen so far is only a taste of the beauty of Lorien!"

"But Edoras is such a majestic city," he said.

"And are not Imladris and Caras Gladhorn said to be the fairest places in all the West?"

"Wide, rolling grasslands as far as the eye can see!"

"Tall, fair trees and narrow woodland streams."

"The Golden Hall of Meduseld!"

"The sweet Nimrodel!"

"Out of my land came Éorl the Young besides many more mighty heroes."

"You forget Gil Galad, the mightiest Elven King to live, but slain, alas, in the great battle against the dark lord's growing power."

"But what of Theoden, my father?Was he not a wise and mighty King in his prime?"

"But what of the Lady Galadriel? Is she not fair yet powerful and wise? And you forget Lord Elrond. Even the most learned go to him seeking counsel."

Theodred glanced at her in annoyance and paused, as if thinking up another way in which Rohan could better all things Elvish.

"Ah! You have never seen Rohan! It is the most romantic landscape imaginable!"

She scoffed at this. "What? Grassy plains and mountains? They are nothing compared to the woods of Lothlorien! Uncountable couples have fallen in love amidst the fountains and flowers of Caras Gladhorn."

"But Rohan is more dramatic!" Theodred insisted.

"Lorien is undeniably more romantic," Mithra asserted firmly.

Theodred didn't say anything for a moment, but looked around him at the trees, as if coming to a decision. He looked back at her, smiling seductively.

"Let's see." He said simply.

Mithra glanced at him in surprise, before her expression morphed into one of haughty disdain. "Don't be a fool," she muttered.

They said no more, but as Theodred walked, Mithra saw that he flinched with every other step he took, only when he thought she wasn't looking.

"What's the matter?" she asked him, attempting not to put the slightest element of concern into her voice.

"Nothing!" he insisted.

"No, seriously," she stopped and stood in front of him, forcing him to look into her eyes. "I'm intelligent enough to recognise a lie when I see one. What's wrong with you?"

He gestured vaguely towards his left shoulder. "Just a little something I picked up during my last battle," he mumbled.

Her brow furrowing in concern, Mithra took a step closer to Theodred and lifted his left shoulder guard, noticing a large dent in it. She drew in breath sharply, seeing instantly a poorly attempted bandage, and, through that, the unmistakable sight of blood.

"Change of direction," she announced suddenly, leading him back the way they had come. "I'm not showing you your room until you've seen a healer."

Theodred couldn't help but notice the slight emphasis on the word 'your', but he endeavored to ignore it and groaned. "I'll be fine, honestly," he insisted. "It's just a cut."

"Cuts don't bleed that much," she said simply. "When did you get it?"

"Just over a week ago," he muttered. Her green eyes widened in shock.

"And it's been exposed for your whole journey through the wild? Who knows what's gotten into it!" Much to his annoyance, she quickened her pace.

Theodred groaned and quickly stepped into her path. She stopped suddenly. A look of alarm passed through her eyes at seeing his face so close to hers, but she didn't move.

"Mithra," the prince said calmly. "I do not need a healer. I beseech you, simply lead me to my… to the room I am to stay in."

"You do realise," Mithra began, "That a bad infection could mean the loss of your arm, or at least use of it?" He looked at her in mild surprise. "That would be the end of your fighting days."

"Oh, fine then!" he exclaimed almost before she had finished.

With a smug expression of triumph on her face, Mithra resumed her swift pace and led him on. "I could tell you it's for you own good, but I doubt whether it would do me any good in the long term."

"You bet it wouldn't," Theodred muttered. "Women in Rohan aren't like you; they know how to treat men with respect."

"Who said anything about me not showing you respect?" Mithra asked. "Besides, One, I'm not a woman, I'm an Elf, and two, remember you are still here and in relatively good health out of the kindness of the Lord and Lady. It's not too late for them to change their minds."

The prince didn't say anything as they descended a steep spiral staircase, but eyed her angrily.

"Your beauty is deceptive," he said finally as they laid foot once more on the soft grass of the forest floor. Mithra simply smiled, but didn't reply. "How old are you, by the way?" he asked.

Grinning, the Elf glanced over her shoulder at him. "With memories of living Gondorian Kings still fresh in my memory you can hardly expect me to own to that," she told him. "What about you?"

"With my father currently looking like he's seen five hundred winters, you can hardly expect _me_ to own to that. And what are Elves like when it comes to romance?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Elves do have romance, don't they?" he asked. "New Elves have to come from somewhere, after all."

Mithra couldn't help laughing at him. "It's been many years since an Elf child played among the trees of Lorien," she told him with a sad edge to her voice.

"But what about romance, then?"

"Elves are great lovers," she said, smiling secretively. "Have not you heard the tale of Beren and Lúthien? The story of a mortal man for whom an Elf maid gave up her immortality? It is the greatest love story ever told!"

"I didn't know Elves were allowed to marry Men," he said.

"It's clear you don't know many things," was the instant reply.

Theodred scowled. Lore and history had never been ofmuch interest to him. "How far are these healers, anyway?" he asked in a wish to switch the topic of conversation from his common ignorance.

"Only up these stairs," Mithra said, pausing at the foot of another staircase to which the end could not be seen. Theodred groaned. "Fear not," she told him, smiling sweetly. "If the worst comes to the worst, I'm sure I could drag you up the last few."

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A/N: Thanks for reading, and remember how much I like to get reviews!

lama x


	5. Chapter 5: The Healers'

**A/N:** Thanks again if you've reviewed this story! You really made my day!

Now, I'd like to address a few issues raised in a review. Firstly, I know that the Elves didn't actually go toHelm's Deepin the book, but I decided to include it to work Mathas' characterinto the story. I alsoknow that not all Elves in Lorien are blonde. I didn't intend to give that impression, and if I did, believe me it was unconsciously done. Thanks for the points about Elves' characteristics though. I'll take those into account if I should ever writea story like this again.

And hey... artistic license, right?

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter 5: The Healers'**

It was half an hour and several rests later when Theodred finally arrived at the top of the stairs.

"I thought soldiers got a lot of exercise," Mithra said as he sat down heavily. "You're supposed to be fit as a fiddle."

"I thought I was," he replied in-between massaging his sore leg muscles. He laughed bitterly. "Those stairs would put any athlete to shame."

"Oh, you'll get over it," she said, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. "Just like Boromir did."

Theodred glanced at her in interest. "Boromir was here?"

"Yes, he came with a company from Rivendell. Do you know him?" Mithra chose not to mention the news of Boromir's recent misfortune on the slopes of Amon Hen.

"He is a good friend of mine, once we can get the idea of a politically advantageous marriage of him to my cousin out of the way. He's an admirable man." He grinned at her. "I'm surprised he wasn't as enchanted by your looks as I have been."

"I didn't say he wasn't." Mithra was smiling shyly. Mere memories of some of Boromir's compliments brought tears of mirth to her eyes. She tried not to remember several of the situations that had occurred after being left alone with him. "Come on, the healers' is just along here."

She pushed open the door of a large wooden building built, like everything here, Theodred thought, around the tree. The room they entered was bright and airy, with what looked to be more windows than walls. What little wall space there was in the circular chamber was taken up by shelves groaning under the weight of carefully arranged medicines. A fair-haired male Elf robed in pale blue was stood at one of the many windows.

"May I help you?" he asked. His voice was slow and calm, like almost every other Elf here. Theodred was glad Mithra, his only companion, happened to be one of the exceptions. Hearing those almost inhuman voices made him want to scream at the speaker to talk normally.

"This is Theodred, son of King Theoden of Rohan," Mithra said. Theodred winced as she gave his full title. "He was found in the woods and has recently been granted permission by the Lord and Lady to stay here." She paused momentarily and cast him a sideways glance. "However, he does not appear to be in the best of conditions."

"Very well," the healer said, bowing his head. "Please be seated." He motioned towards a wooden stool beside one of the windows. "And that'll have to come off," he added, glancing at the armour Theodred was wearing.

After unbuckling the heavy breastplate, the man let out a sigh of relief. He was familiar with the floating sensation after removing armour worn for some time.

The healer eyed Theodred's bandage distastefully. "I presume this dressing was not applied by a healer?"

"I did it myself," Theodred told him.

"Hmmm… I wonder, might I ask you to remove your shirt?"

"Sorry?" Theodred cast a shy glance at Mithra, who stood by the door watching the proceedings with clear amusement written on her features. The Elf saw him looking.

"Mithra," he said. "I fear I may have to ask you to step outside. This _brave_ soldier is clearly unnerved by the presence of a female."

This received a dark look in reply from the prince, but he pulled off his thick leather tunic, then his shirt wordlessly.

"Ah, I spoke too soon." The healer exchanged glances with Mithra; they both knew the trick had worked on the Men and Hobbits that were Mithra's previous charge.

The healer, Rumanas by name, lifted the blood-stained linen bandage and peered at the wound underneath. "It's notthat bad," he said, prodding the area gently. Theodred gasped and swore violently under his breath. He heard Mithra stifle a giggle and glanced across the chamber at her. She quickly averted her eyes, her cheeks reddening at an alarming pace. She was not unaccustomed to attractive men, but Theodred's refined muscles and handsome face had struck a chord somewhere inside her and, try as she might, it was getting incredibly difficult to tear her eyes away from his half-undressed body. She pretended to stare out of the window, still able to feel his gaze on her back.

He was distracted, however as Rumanas laid a deep bowl of water on a table beside him and threw two small leaves into it. Immediately, a refreshing and invigorating scent filled the room. Mithra breathed in deeply, familiar with the medicinal qualities of Athelas.

"I may not be a King," Rumanas said, "But this will help the slight infection, no doubt."

Dipping a thick wad of cotton into the water, the healer bathed Theodred's shoulder with it gently. Hold this in place for me, would you Mithra?" he asked.

"Hmmm?" she looked up quickly as she heard her name. Sighing, the healer repeated the question. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Yes, of course!"

Hurrying across the room, she took hold of the cotton and continued to bathe Theodred's shoulder with it. He grinned up at her.

"You've gone quiet all of a sudden," he told her. She ignored him, but a tingle ran down her spine as her fingers lightly brushed him skin.

"That's good, Mithra," the healer said. "Just hold it there a little longer." He returned and unscrewed the lid of a jar of ointment. Motioning to Mithra to move the cotton, he rubbed it into the wound, after saying, "This may sting a bit."

Mithra had smiled at hearing those infamous words, but Theodred swore again. "It's ok for you," he muttered, "You're not having this gunk rubbed into your bloodstream."

"You'll need to repeat this process once a day for a fortnight," Rumanas said. Mithra and Theodred exchanged amused glances; fortunately, he had not heard. "Will you make sure that happens, Mithra?" Rumanas asked.

Mithra grinned, her green eyes never leaving Theodred's. "Oh, I'll be glad to."

She stifled her giggles at the look of pure loathing in his eyes. He continued to glare at her as he pulled his shirt on again and fastened up his tunic.

"You can go now," Rumanas said.

"Good," Theodred said. "Now you can show me to my room, Mithra. It's near yours, isn't it?" he added.

"Quite near," she said quietly. Her mood had shifted at the reminder that Theodred was to use the chambers that had once been occupied by Mathas.

"Then I hope I'll see more of you," he said, grinning in an attempt to cheer her up.

"Perhaps," was the distant reply.

Swinging his heavy breastplate by his side, Theodred thanked the healer and followed Mithra back along the path they had already walked.

Rumanas watched them go, smiling knowingly. He saw the prince of the Rohirrim be the first to speak, his eyes earnestly seeking out Mithra's, but, smiling shyly, she turned away. A sudden thought struck him, and he stood still on the threshold for a moment, pondering the best course of action to take. Coming to a decision, the healer pulled the door closed behind him and struck a course for the stairs, and the chambers of the Lady Galadriel.

* * *

**A/N:** I've just realised how slowly this story is moving. Apologies, it gets more interesting soon, I promise! Please keep reading and reviewing!

the green lama


	6. Chapter 6: Two Lonely Souls

**A/N: **Thanks again for reviewing, if you have. Your taking the time to leave me one is very much appreciated!

I'm putting up this chapternow specially for Black Koala, who asked me about it in science! I am, however, flattered that more than one person has stuck around to read this!

Enjoy!

**Chapter 6: Two Lonely Souls**

The sun was setting by the time Mithra brought Theodred to the room once occupied by her dearest friend. Mathas' chambers were grand and spacious, the bedroom dominated by an enormous four-poster bed.

Mithra entered first, shielding her eyes from the bright light as she stood opposite the west-facing windows.

"Wow," Theodred said as he followed her in. "This is… nice. Not at all like Edoras," he added.

Mithra smiled proudly. "Naturally." She smoothed out the parchment-coloured bed linen, unfazed by the normal speed with which Elves were notified of and carried out necessary tasks of readying rooms. "Anything you need shall be brought to you, if it is not already here," she continued. She turned to face him, and found him grinning at her, his eyes sparkling seductively.

"It's a double," he said, nodding over her shoulder to the bed. "I'm unused to so much space."

"I thought you said you were a prince."

"I was, I mean… I am, but my people don't believe men need an extra pillow unless they have a woman to use it."

"Are you insinuating something, good sir?" Mithra asked. Theodred took a step towards her and she looked up into his eyes, only inches away from her own.

"Why, fair lady, I thought you were intelligent."

"Indeed. More so than you."

"Then surely you can plainly tell that I find you entrancing." Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it gently, his eyes never leaving hers.

"And surely you can plainly tell that your tricks to seduce witless Rohirric maidens will not work on me." Mithra pulled her hand away, wishing she spoke the truth.

Theodred chuckled. "You are a hard one, aren't you?" he said. "What can I do to penetrate that cold, cruel heart of yours?"

"Obey my command, cater for my every whim, oh, and being showered with expensive gifts would be nice. Also, you must undertake a dangerous quest to prove yourself worthy. If you return, you must sweep me up in your arms, declare your undying love for me and kiss me dramatically. Then, and only then, you will be worthy of my attention."

The prince grinned. "I'm sure I could manage that," he said, "And I might as well get started now."

"Good." Mithra said. "It's strange, but all of a sudden I would love to hear thesong of Beren and Lúthien…" She smiled up at him in a mockingly sweet manner.

Theodred only smiled back at this, and slowly began to chant softly.

_"The leaves were long, the grass was green,_

_The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_

_And in the glade a light was seen_

_Of stars in shadows shimmering._

_Tinúviel was dancing there_

_To music of a pipe unseen_

_And light of stars was in her hair,_

_And in her raiment glimmering."_

Mithra could not help but stare at him in wonder as he launched into the second stanza. She had not expected him to even know of the poem, let alone be able to recite it. She sat down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes; the familiar words of her favourite elven song had been sung many times from the very spot Theodred was occupying now by Mathas.

Theodred went on.

"_Again she fled, but swift he came._

_Tinúviel! Tinúviel!_

_He called her by her elvish name;_

_And there she halted listening._

_One moment stood she, and a spell_

_His voice laid on her: Beren came,_

_And doom fell on Tinúviel_

_That in his arms lay glistening."_

Suddenly, Theodred ended. Mithra glanced up at him in surprise. "Don't stop," she told him.

"It's all I know," he admitted.

"How do you know it?"

"Boromir and his brother Faramir taught me a small part of it when first I met them, but I cannot recall any more."

"It is a beautiful song," Mithra sighed.

"It is odd that it applies so much to our own current state of affairs."

Mithra glanced at him. "How do you mean?" she asked.

"Think about it. A mortal man is wandering in the elven woods when, through the trees, he sees an Elf maiden, the fairest being he ever laid eyes on. He calls her name, and yet she flees from his love." He grinned at her. "But how will things turn out in the end? In the poem, Beren won the heart of Lúthien."

Mithra held his gaze for a moment, though it seemed like an eternity. Desire was awoken within her by his seductive eyes, and she longed to follow in Lúthien's footsteps and throw herself into his arms right now. Instead, she got to her feet and swiftly changed the subject.

"You have travelled far," she said, "You need rest, no doubt. I will leave you now."

"So soon?"

"Fear not, my lord," she said mockingly, "There is plenty of time for you to woo me tomorrow."

And, with a last fleeting grin, she left.

* * *

Not far away, a healer named Rumanas was swiftly climbing a steep spiral staircase. He possessed the usual calmness, serenity and grace with which all Elves moved, but inside his head, a furious battle was raging.

Mithra was in danger: that much was certain as the sunrise. It was no weapon that threatened her, but a young man. Having once being an inhabitant of Imladris, Rumanas was all too aware of the risk that came in the form of young men. He was one of the few who knew of Arwen Evenstar's suffering, and of the difficult choice that lay ahead for her concerning her love for a man. Mithra was a friendly and entertaining Elf maiden; he did not want her to fall victim to the same fate.

Yet at the same time, Rumanas was happy for Mithra. After the loss of Mathas, she needed a companion. And besides, what were the chances of her returning the affections of a human prince?

After struggling to take the last few steps at a steady pace, Rumanas found himself on the platform of the Lord and Lady. Galadriel and her maidens were there, resplendent in white, but none so fair as the elven queen.

He bowed his head in reverence. "My lady, I much desire to speak with you on a matter of some importance."

Galadriel didn't have to say anything for her handmaidens to know their presence was unwanted. They rose silently and glided down the staircase, Mithra's friend Eleniel among them.

"You look troubled, friend," the lady began.

"That is true. I am concerned for Mithra."

Galadriel's face did not betray her feelings of mild surprise. "Why so?" she asked.

"I fear she may beatrisk ofdangerfrom the young man she was accompanying this afternoon." He paused, but the beautiful figure before him motioned for him to go on. "The danger of falling in love, my lady," Rumanas finished.

Galadriel did not frown as he had expected, but smiled warmly.

"What is there to fear?" she asked. "Mithra needs a companion, and I can think of no one better than Theodred."

"Lady, forgive me, but I must protest. You cannot surely sit back and let this happen, if it does? A man and an Elf? It is going against everything we live for, and only pain and suffering can come of such a pairing."

"You have never been in love, have you, Rumanas?"

"I confess I have not," the healer admitted.

"Then you cannot know what a wonderful feeling it truly is." The Lady was beaming at him. "True love can see past the pain. True love can teach a heart to endure the hardships, for the promise of even the briefest of sweet moments that will follow."

Rumanas still looked doubtful. "I must simply hope for Mithra's sake that the young man leaves soon. All I wish for is her happiness, I fear for her."

"Think not of them as a man and an elf," Galadriel said, "But as two lonely souls, finding comfort in one another."

* * *

A/N: And that is that. Please stick around: fluffy drabble is yet to follow. And please leave me a review!

lama x


	7. Chapter 7: A Sunny Afternoon

**A/N: **Thanks to anyone who's still reading and reviewing! Sorry this update has taken so long. I can offer no excuses, save for exams all week and the internet playing up every other day. C'est la vie! Also, I forgot to mention that sharp Brits among you may have recognised a little reference to a certain car advert on tv a few chapters back. (Clue: try chapter 4 and the 'French cars, British designers' ad.) Sorry, I couldn't resist.

I hope you enjoy the mushiness that will follow, and I hope even more that you'll take the time to leave me a review after reading!

**Chapter 7: A Sunny Afternoon**

"And just _who_ are _you_, young man, to wander through Lothlorien without permission? Hold your tongue, _impudent boy_! Just because I cannot _see_ you past my _overly large nose_ does not mean that I cannot be as _snooty_ and _annoying_ as ever."

"Keep your voice down!"

"Don't you talk to _me_ like that, you _cheeky little_ _girl_, or I shall be forced to condemn you to a _slow and painful death_!"

Mithra couldn't get any more words out and collapsed into another fit of laughter. Theodred's imitations of Nelendor were too much for her.

"That was so lifelike!" she managed at length. "He'd be furious if he heard you!"

Theodred pretended not to hear. "And as for that _Celeborn_…"

"Theodred!" Mithra cried amidst peals of laughter, "Shut up! If they hear you…"

"And what should I care of they do hear me? A bunch of ancient old men in dresses don't scare me."

"They're not old men, and they're not _dresses_."

"Then what are they? Robes?" He smirked. "Robes my-"

"Theodred!"

"Where I come from, it's called a dress, and women wear it."

Mithra settled down on the springy green turf at the foot of a mallorn tree and grinned up at the Rohirric prince before her He had been in Lorien for three days now, though it was difficult to keep track of the time. "What does scare you, then," she asked, "If not ancients in dresses?"

"Very few things."

"Such as?"

Theodred avoided her eyes. His joking, cheerful demeanour had swiftly evaporated. "Impenetrable darkness, being truly alone, and death. Not my death, but that of loved ones, of family members."

Mithra bit her lip, half wishing she hadn't asked. Her question had touched on tender memories, she could tell, memories he would clearly rather have not been reminded of.

"Then you now have no reason to fear!" she said as cheerfully as she could manage, "As we're in populated woods on a sunny afternoon, woods that death has rarely touched the heart of." She smiled encouragingly.

"What about you?" Theodred asked. "What do you fear?"

Mithra paused a moment in thought; she had not the slightest idea. "I… I'm not sure," she mumbled, feeling foolish and awkward.

"Come on, there must be something."

"Change," she said at last.

Theodred looked at her in interest. "How do you mean?"

"I live my life according to a pattern. When that pattern is broken, everything seems to go wrong."

"Fair enough." Theodred didn't say anything more. Mithra's question had ruined his cheer, a fact that she was all too aware of. However, she decided to take advantage of the situation and ask a question she'd been too nervous to ask before.

"Why did you leave Rohan?"

He groaned. "Mithra, you know I-"

"Please," she begged. "It can't do any harm, surely."

A long pause followed, Mithra's curiosity combined with Theodred's reluctance creating an uncomfortable edge to the already awkward silence.

"If you insist." Theodred too was sitting down by now, and leant back against the smooth bark of another tree. "Throughout my youth," he began, "My father was ever a strong and confident leader of our people. He fought wars bravely with the militaristic mind of an experienced soldier and made peace with our neighbours displaying the most wisdom and logic seen in many kings. But it was not to last. Since our once-ally Saruman betrayed us to become Sauron's slave, his orcs and uraks have attacked our land with frenzy. They spare no one: no child or parent, nor home or stable survives their onslaught. My home city of Edoras became a haven for refugees of the Riddermark. My father's mind grew dark and poisoned, bewitched as he was by the sly whisperings of a wily adviser, Wormtongue. He visually aged thirty years in a matter of weeks, losing his memory and ability to think for himself. He relied completely on Wormtongue, who insisted Saruman was our ally. My cousins, Éomer and Éowyn and I could do nothing. I was driven out of mind by such a life. What glory is there in battles that claim the lives of so many men and horses that every other house in Edoras is empty or mourning?"

He paused and glanced up at Mithra. "So I left, from a battlefield. My men and I were ambushed, and I the only one left alive. I played dead and got away."

"And now your people think you are dead."

He winced. "I know. I did not intend to cause them pain."

"How could you avoid such an act when leaving them secretly, giving no words of farewell or reassurance?"

Theodred said nothing, but Mithra continued.

"You were their prince, an important figure of both society and the military. Your cousins will now have had mourning and funeral arrangements to deal with, on top of everything else."

Still, he remained silent.

"How you can justify what you did is beyond me," Mithra said.

"I can't justify it," Theodred muttered. "I was rash and selfish, thinking only of my own happiness. I've just refused to come to terms with the fact until now." He laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I've been so stubborn. So stubborn and stupid."

"We heard of your burial," Mithra told him. "How come people witnessed your body being laid to rest when you are still alive here with me?"

He smiled secretively. "I have risen from the grave," he told her.

She raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"No." He sighed deeply. "I don't know who my family buried, but it wasn't me, clearly."

Mithra paused to consider all she had just heard. To her, it seemed unlikely that a man like Theodred would be forced into such a cowardly act as running away. She glanced up at him to find him looking back at her.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked, seeing her expression of doubt.

She didn't answer. His eyes caught hers and held them, and she saw such sorrow and sincerity in them that she could no longer doubt him. She simply smiled, sweetly and reassuringly, before attempting to tear her gaze away from his. Her eyes flashed back to him, however, as he got to his feet slowly and walked towards her, kneeling down on the grass beside her. He was smiling warmly, though his twinkling dark eyes gave away his intentions.

Mithra opened her mouth to speak, but he laid a finger on her lips and shushed her.

"Do not say anything more," he whispered, leaning closer.

Then he kissed her.

Mithra's first emotion was shock. She'd never been kissed before and had little idea what she should do. Her surprise quickly faded away, however, as she felt Theodred's strong arms encircling her, pulling her closer to him, and joy flooded through her. Her thoughts briefly touched on the fact that she was kissing a human man, probably not the best idea, before her mind went haywire and she could concentrate on nothing but Theodred, so caught up in the moment. But finally, after what seemed like a wonderful eternity had passed by, he pulled away, grinning at her.

"You… you…" Mithra couldn't get any words out. "You kissed me," she managed breathlessly at last.

"Indeed I did." His usual enchanting smile was back.

"But whatever for?"

"I thought I'd made my instant love for you clear from the moment I first laid my lucky eyes on you."

"I suppose you did." She giggled as he pulled her to her feet.

"You know," he began. "You've changed my mind about Lothlorien. These woods really are beautiful." He smiled at her, before adding, "And romantic."

"More so than Rohan?"

"More so than Rohan." He groaned as soon as he had spoken. "I can't believe I just said that," he muttered. "You've bewitched me, I've lost my mind, I swear!"

She grinned, but he continued.

"When I arrived here, I barely had time to pause for breath before you came waltzing up on to that platform-thingamajig, took a fancy to me and cast your spell on me, bringing my mind under your cruel control."

"I do not _waltz_, but you're not so bad looking yourself, actually."

"I know, I caught you looking when I had my shirt off at that healer's."

She smiled shyly, but didn't get chance to speak before the sounds of a nearby elven song reached their ears. Mithra was prepared to ignore it, an art she was well practised in, but Theodred groaned in frustration.

"If I hear one more bloody Elf singing, I swear I'm going to rip their throat out with my bare hands!"

"Come on," Mithra said, taking his hand and leading him into the trees, "Let's find somewhere a little more quiet then."

Theodred grinned. "Lead on then, lady," he laughed. "I'm quite at my leisure."

* * *

A/N: Thanks, now kindly leave me a review!

the green lama


	8. Chapter 8: A Call to Battle

**A/N: **First of all, sorry this chapter has taken so long to get up. Secondly, thanks if you've read this and left me a review in the past. Thirdly, please leave me a review after reading! And so, without further ado, I give you...

**Chapter 8: A Call to Battle**

Galadriel and Eleniel heard Mithra's giggling before they saw her. Making their way slowly down one of the many winding stairs, the elven queen and her maiden watched her from above. Theodred was with her, and they stood as closely together and seemed as comfortable in each other's presence as only lovers do. As if to prove the point, the Rohirric prince leaned towards the Elfand kissed her gently, reaching up a hand and laying it on her cheek softly.

Galadriel and her companion exchanged glances and smiled, before nodding simultaneously. It was time to put their plan into action.

Eleniel cleared her throat loudly and dramatically. The lovers glanced up in shock at the stairs, before hurrying away through the trees. "May I hear more of this news from Rohan, my lady?" Eleniel asked clearly.

Galadriel paused before answering. Sure enough, the sounds of Theodred and Mithra's hurried exit from the area had stopped.

"Have not you heard?" she asked. "The beacons of Minas Tirith have been lit. The people of Gondor call for the aid of their neighbours."

"But will Theoden answer the call?"

"Indeed. He knows that this is the battle on which everything rests, and is mustering his men as we speak. They will assemble at Dunharrow in two days."

"How many men can Gondor expect?"

"Theoden hopes for more than twelve thousand, this much I know, though I doubt that many will come." She paused and sighed deeply, before adding, "It seems that now Theoden will miss the presence of his son more than ever."

Eleniel came to the end of her memorised questions and shot Galadriel a knowing glance. Saying nothing more, she followed her mistress away.

* * *

Theodred gazed at the receding backs of Galadriel and Eleniel, his eyes glazed and shock written across his handsome features. Mithra tugged at his sleeve nervously. Slowly, he turned to look at her.

"My father…" he began, his voice hoarse and quiet. "My people…"

"Theodred!" Mithra put her hands on his shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "Theodred, please don't…" She knew what he was about to say.

"I have to go."

Mithra looked at him in dismay for a few seconds, before she groaned and shook her head furiously.

"No you don't," she said firmly. "No one's making you."

"I must," he replied simply.

"No!" She shook him as hard as she could, this not being very hard, her slender body capable of only a fraction of the strength of his tall, muscled one. "Don't you dare go!" She pointed a finger at him, as if she was a mother scolding a mischievous child, her face a mixture of fear, anger and frustration that was difficult to read. "Don't you dare go, else I'll…" she paused, unable to find the words, and simply let out a cry of frustration.

"You'll what?" Theodred asked.

Mithra glared at him. "You don't want to know," she hissed dangerously.

"Mithra," Theodred began, "Please don't be like this. I'm going to go, whether you like it or not. Ever since I left home, the weight of my own guilt that I've born has become almost unbearable. As a soldier, to live in the knowledge that you are a coward is unimaginably difficult. Now, I have a chance to redeem myself. It's likely that I won't get another chance like this, please don't make me miss it."

"I know that you're a good man, Theodred," Mithra told him firmly. "You don't need to prove to me that you're not a coward. I know that even the best of men can break under difficult circumstances like yours."

"Éomer didn't."

"Then forget about Éomer! Stay here with me, with someone who loves you despite what you have done!"

Theodred looked at his feet sadly.

"I have to go," he said yet again, his voice soft and gloomy. He looked up and tried to look into Mithra's eyes, but she turned away, her arms folded now her face like thunder.

"It's not fair." At this remark, Theodred was briefly reminded of Éowyn as she had been during her teenage years. He'd heard this surly remark before, when her uncle had not allowed that new sword she'd set her heart on. He pushed these thoughts out of his head, however, and continued to seek out Mithra's attention.

"What's not fair?" he asked.

"Life." Her voice was cold and dangerously low. "As soon as something good comes along, it's snatched out of my hands almost before I can grasp it. I've only truly loved two people. The first, Mathas marched away to war at Helm's Deep and never returned. Now, you want to ride away and fight alongside people who think you are dead. What if _you_ don't return? What will I do then?"

Theodred bit his lip. He'd heard briefly of Mathas, and knew he had been dearer to Mithra than life itself. Who exactly he had been, he had no idea. He did not need to ask, Mithra looked back at him at last, and it was clear that she was going to tell him herself.

"Mathas," she began, "Was the Elf who took care of me after my parents were killed, my father in battle, my mother soon after. They were taken from me so early in my life I can't even remember them; Mathas was the only family I knew. He raised me, educated me… I'm sure you get the picture."

She paused and glared at him.

"I didn't know how life could go on without him. Only you were able to pierce the thick, heavy cloud that his death placed around me, and now you too wish to leave for battle. And you haven't even offered to take me with you."

Theodred glanced at her in surprise. "Can you fight?" he asked her.

She scowled. "Unfortunately not. Combat was never an art in which I was particularly skilled or interested."

"Then taking you with me is out of the question."

Mithra didn't say anything more. She turned away from him and pretended to be gazing up at the sky.

"I'll be leaving in the morning, then," Theodred said with an awkward cough, still feeling guilty about reminding her of Mathas. She did not acknowledge that he had spoken.

"I hope we can part on good terms," he continued, voicing it like a suggestion, unsure whether speech was welcome.

Then, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a sob, Mithra hurried past him and away up the stairs, hitching her skirt above her ankles to allow swifter movement. Theodred swore aloud and sighed in frustration, before following her, wishing she could have made departure easier for him.

"Mithra!" he called. She was just out of his sight, but, speeding up slightly to a jog and taking two steps at a time, he caught a fleeting glimpse of the skirt of a deep blue dress that Mithra was wearing. "Stop!" he begged, his annoyance and desperation showing in his voice.

He received no answer. Mithra kept running.

It wasn't long before they reached the top of the stairs, and Theodred paused for a moment, listening to determine whether Mithra had gone left or right. To one side, he heard the speedy pattering of light footsteps.

"Right," he muttered aloud, and sighed deeply before starting to jog again.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Any reviews will be very much appreciated!

the green lama x


	9. Chapter 9: Last Night in Lorien

**Chapter 9: Last Night in Lorien**

"I've been such a fool."

Mithra sat up in bed with a moan of dismay.

It was past midnight, but she could not sleep. The night air was hot and heavy, unusual for March in Lorien, and her thin night dress clung to her body like a second layer of skin, damp with sweat. The heat, however, was being ignored, another issue taking precedence over it.

"Theodred."

Mithra said his name aloud, an element of desperation and worry in her voice that she did not recognise. She had not seen him since slamming her door in his face after being chased to her home and ignoring his pleading shouts. Tomorrow morning he planned to leave, or so he said. Mithra, despite her reluctance to let him go, knew that letting him do so while still on bad terms with him would be the stupidest thing she had or ever would do.

Making up her mind at last, she pushed back the covers and got out of bed, only taking a moment to change into a dry night gown. Once this was done, she passed out of her room, glanced both ways quickly, and laid her hand on the handle of the door to the room opposite hers, the one that until recently had been occupied by Mathas. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and slipped inside.

* * *

The first thing Mithra noticed when she woke up the next morning was incredibly bright sunlight. She raised an arm to shield her eyes almost as soon as she opened them, and it was when she did so that she realised she was not in her own bed but Mathas'.

Then everything came flooding back to her, and she rolled over to see the sleeping form of Theodred, one arm around her shoulders. She shuffled closer to him, glad to find that her night dress was no longer sticking to her, and nestled into him, a small, satisfied smile on her face.

"Is that you, Mithra?"

She cursed silently; her affection had woken him up.

"Who else?"

She looked into his sleepy eyes and smiled warmly, but got a bemused look in reply.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Nothing in particular," she told him. "Lying in your arms, kicking myself for waking you up…"

The prince yawned groggily and sat up, watching her suspiciously. "No, really. What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Thanks," Mithra muttered. "You certainly know how to make someone like me feel appreciated. We made up, don't you remember?"

Theodred sighed deeply and yawned again, before lying back down. "What time is it?"

"Not yet eight in the morning."

He groaned. "I'd hoped to be on the road by now," he moaned, sitting up again and getting out of bed.

"No!" Mithra grabbed his arm tightly and looked into his eyes, silently pleading. "Please," she whispered, "Please…"

Theodred didn't say anything,but Mithra found her attention drawn away from his eyes. He was shirtless, and the sun that shone on his tanned skin seemed to make him even more attractive. The hint of a grin played on his lips for a moment as she sighed wistfully.

"What?" he asked.

"You look remarkably wonderful this morning, Theodred."

Grinning, he eyed her tousled hair and scanty night gown. "You're not bad yourself."

They exchanged smiles, before he got up off the bed and went to the wardrobe to hunt for some clothes. Mithra stood up slowly, watching him sadly now.

"Do you really have to go?" she asked.

Theodred simply looked back at her, before pulling her into his arms and kissing her gently. "If you hurry up and get dressed," he whispered, "You can come and see me off."

Nodding obediently, Mithra instantly did as she was told.

After she had gone, Theodred turned back to the wardrobe and continued to look for his own clothes. He found them at last, the garments he'd been wearing when he left Rohan, now carefully washed and repaired by the Elves. He got dressed slowly after washing, thinking out the journey that he was about to make.

He knew how to get back to Edoras from here and to Dunharrow from Edoras, so finding the way would be no trouble. Celeborn had granted him permission to leave, more Elves he couldn't remember the names of had been all too happy to weigh him down with provisions, mostly wafers of unusual bread with an easily forgotten elvish name Theodred couldn't recall. He'd then been told a horse he could use would be saddled and waiting for him in the stables, although he was more than capable of saddling a horse by himself.

Fully clothed, Theodred now turned to his armour, and began to strap on the thick, well-worn plates of metal and leather. This was a procedure in which he was well practised, and was completed quickly. To finish, Theodred fastened his sword belt round his waist, before turning to look at himself in the full-length mirror. He felt a surge of pride rising inside him to look like a man of Rohan once again, and sighed deeply. This time, he stepped out of the door to meet Mithra with a smile on his face, and took her hand encouragingly when he saw the sad look in her eyes.

"You'll have to lead me to the stables," he told her.

She said nothing in reply, only nodded, and led him away.

The stables of Lothlorien were quite unlike anything Theodred had ever seen before: palaces in comparison to Edoras'. As promised, a white horse stood apart from the rest, already saddled. As soon as Mithra saw it, she began to remove the saddle.

"What are you doing?" Theodred asked.

"Getting you a better horse."

He watched her go to a tall, fine beast with a coat of deepest ebony and stroke its neck. It nuzzled her affectionately, and Theodred saw a smile grace her features.

"Of course, that one there will suffice, but you want speed. Callisto here used to belong to Mathas. You won't see a finer horse in Rohan."

Theodred strongly doubted her claim, but chose to stay quiet.

"He'll see you to Dunharrow in time," Mithra continued, and he watched her fasten the saddle onto the animal. When finished, she turned to look at him, and the unhappy look in her eyes that Callisto had momentarily banished returned.

"And now you have to go," she said quietly.

"I do indeed."

Slowly, tears welled up in her eyes. "You made my cry!" she exclaimed. "How dare you! I hate you for leaving!"

Smiling sadly, he pulled her into a tender embrace. "I'll miss you too," he whispered to her, but she drew away and pointed a finger at him accusingly.

"If you don't come back, if you don't return, I'll…" She broke off, and the first bout of tears streamed down her cheeks. "You had better come back to me!"

"I will," he promised. "You have the word of honour of a man of Rohan. It will not be broken." Mithra winced and tried to ignore the similarities this bore to the last few words Mathas had ever said to her.

There was an awkward pause as Theodred tried to understand why she seemed so upset from his words.

"Callisto is waiting," she said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.

"Mithra." She looked up into Theodred's eyes as he said her name. There was a look in them that she had never seen before. "I love you." And so saying, he drew her into his arms again and kissed her, holding her so tightly she was almost short for breath, but she clung to him as long as she could, savouring every moment with him. They separated wordlessly, and Mithra watched Theodred mount the horse that she had seen Mathas ride so many times before.

He looked down at her from the saddle and tried to smile encouragingly. "I'll see you soon," he told her, gathering up the reins in his gloved hands.

Her reply was simple. "Goodbye."

And then he was gone, out of sight in moments, with only a tearful lover left behind to show he had ever been there at all.

* * *

**A/N:** Firstly, sorry it's taken me so long to write this chapter. I haven't got an excuse, save for the World Cup, which is a pretty poor one I guess, seeing how few and far between good England matches are. Secondly, kindly do not jump to conclusions about anything in this chapter. Remember that I'm only small, and would be far too embarrased to write anything like what a certain Koala suggested in IT! Thirdly, which do you prefer: nice, predictable stories with happy endings, or interesting, original ones with sad endings? Just wondering.

Oh yeah, and thanks for taking the time to read this! Any reviews will, also, be very much appreciated!

the green lama


	10. Chapter 10: The Siege of Gondor

**Chapter 10: The Siege of Gondor**

Theoden leant over a map with his head in his hands. It was near midnight and Aragorn and his companions had not yet been gone an hour, but already the ageing King missed the presence of the ranger. His calm yet commanding air had been a permanent fixture in Meduseld, or Helm's Deep or Dunharrow for that matter, for long enough to make Theoden reliant on him.

The recent victory in Rohan had been widely celebrated, but the monarch was not so foolish as Gandalf had supposed. He knew that the battle had only been a tiny taste of the horror Mordor had yet to unleash. The fight in Gondor to which he was now leading his people would cost many more lives, including, Theoden was almost certain, his own.

"My Lord?"

He sighed deeply, recognising the voice as belonging to one of his guards. "Yes?" He didn't bother turning round to face them.

"Another of your men has arrived alone, sir, and he insisted that he be permitted to see you immediately."

Theoden turned around. Sure enough, two guards stood just inside the entrance to his tent, flanking a tall, hooded and cloaked man, the build of whom seemed almost frighteningly familiar. His hood shadowed his face, but the tips of long, dark strands of hair fell forward into the light.

"Very well," the King said.

"I asked to speak with you alone." The stranger's voice reminded Theoden of a voice he'd last heard not too long ago, a voice of one all too dear to him. He nodded to the guards and they left, lowering the flaps of the tent behind them.

Theoden eyed the man, suspiciously. "Who are you?" he asked.

The stranger didn't reply, only lowered his hood, and the King realised why he had seemed so familiar.

"Theodred!" he gasped. "My son!" He reached for the edge of a table to steady himself, his face a picture of fear and shock.

Theodred nodded. "That's right."

"But you're dead!" his father exclaimed. "I wept before your tomb! How is it that I see you before me now?"

"I'm not dead, clearly."

He took a step closer to the King, but Theoden didn't move. "Are you a ghost?" he asked. "Are you a spirit sent to avenge some wrong I have committed?"

"Father." Theodred took another step closer to his father and took hold of his arm, lowering his voice. "Dad, it's me. It's Theo, your son."

His father's face was pale at hearing himself addressed as only his son ever had. Gradually, a smile started to grow on his face. "It really is you!" he whispered. "You've come back!"

Theodred nodded, now wearing a grin almost identical to his father's.

"How?" Theoden asked. "How is it that you come to me now while what we believed to be your body is buried outside Edoras?"

"It's a long story. All I'll say now is that I'm back, and I want to go and fight in Gondor."

Theoden's grin widened and he embraced his son, peals of joyous laughter now escaping his lips. "I'm glad you're back, my boy, so glad."

Theodred sighed deeply in relief and happiness.

"So am I," he murmured. "So am I."

-----

Minas Tirith was in flames, its white walls blackened by smoke, and before it, filling every visible inch of the plain with their foul warfare, was a huge army of orcs, easily more than ten times the amount at Helm's Deep. They lay directly between the Rohirrim and their Numenorean neighbours, and their fiery trenches stretched across the once-fair plains like burning black ribbons, their siege towers towering above even the city walls.

"Nervous?"

Theodred glanced at his father, seated on his snowy-white horse beside him at the head of their column. He cast his eyes back over the massive enemy force.

"Naturally."

"Good. Fear makes you fight at your best."

He looked to his left to see his cousin riding towards them.

"Where am I to lead my men?" Eomer asked almost before he had reached them. Theodred listened attentively as his father delivered his instructions, quickly slipping back into the militaristic swing of things.

"You are to lead the left flank around the outside to the left towards the river," Theoden told him, "And Eomer to the right towards the city. We must cut off their escape."

Both young men nodded in reply, and Theodred exchanged glances with his cousin. "I'll see you after the battle," he said quietly. "Fare well."

"And you."

Their hands clasped briefly in a stiff handshake, before Eomer turned his horse and returned to his men. Theodred turned to look over his shoulder at the soldiers behind him. He recognised many faces; he'd been leading many of these men for years. Then he laid eyes on a rider he did not recognise. They seemed smaller and more slender then the others, with long, fair hair and bright blue eyes that instantly looked down when his met them. Another was seated in front of them, a small figure that seemed to be the Halfling he had heard about from his father. Looking back up, Theodred managed to catch the eyes of the rider, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognised the face of his other cousin, the one he had bid farewell to only days ago.

The name 'Eowyn' had almost formed on his lips before she shook her head slowly. She didn't say anything, but her eyes were begging him not to give her away to her uncle.

He was instantly worried for her, but once he was past that he realised that his once little 'Wyn was now an independent young woman, and, more importantly, a Shield Maiden of Rohan, therefore more than capable of defending herself in battle. Shaking his head and fervently wishing he wouldn't regret it, he turned away, and left her undiscovered, hidden among the ranks of men.

"Theodred!" His father was addressing him, beckoning him to come closer. Theoden leaned forward to speak.

"You'll make a good King."

Theodred glanced at him in confusion, unsure how to take this. "What do you mean?" he asked, though there was already a suspicion in his mind.

His father's eyes were sad as he replied. "You know." He clapped a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "You're the best swordsman in Rohan, go and do me proud."

Theodred could tell it was time for the charge, and, with a last smile at his father, rode away to the men he was going to lead, the horns already blowing behind him.

He heard his father make a speech, his noble words carried away by the wind, but didn't need to know what he was saying to understand. This battle could not be won by the Rohirrim, but they would fight to the very end nonetheless.

Then it was time. Theoden raised his sword above his head and let out an almighty yell, one that was soon seconded by every man present, before the front lines began to move, and the charge began.

The moments that followed were swift and chaotic. Theodred didn't know where to look as his horse slammed into the first ranks of the orcs, but pressed on, shouting to his men to follow him, and led them left. Soon, the orcs began to recover from the initial shock of the Rohirric attack, but the prince madly thrust his sword into anything on the ground that moved, vowing that the enemy would not have the upper half of the battle while he still drew breath.

-----

"Theodred!"

The Rohirric prince spun round on hearing his cousin's cry to block a heavy blow from an orc. An arrow from another of his countrymen saved him the satisfaction of the kill, but he sent a nod of thanks to Eomer nevertheless.

"Take care, cousin," Eomer said, grinning as he rode past. "We wouldn't want to lose you so soon after you've come back."

Theodred grinned in reply and watched as his cousin slowed his horse to hurl a spear at some unfortunate enemy. He'd lost his own horse some time ago: a sore reminder of the lack of his faithful Brego, supposedly now in the possession of a northern ranger he'd heard tell of. But there was no time for thought, and he fought on.

A savage war cry ringing in his ears warned him of the sudden attack of a Haradrim captain, early enough for him to deflect a swinging club. Theodred gathered his wits soon enough to attack before he was forced to defend again, and, using an old trick his uncle had taught him, he went for the weapon of his enemy. He swung his sword down hard on the wooden handle; the anger in the fiery eyes of his opponent only grew as the blade sliced nearly half way through it. Theodred was dismayed to find it made of denser wood than he'd thought, and was forced to raise his shield to the next swift blow. The shield served its purpose but the shrapnel in the club was embedded deep in its front, so he cast it away, leaving his enemy temporarily weaponless.

Now the man of Harad drew a long, broad-bladed knife that had been hanging at his side. Theodred attacked again, but not hard enough.

"Damn!"

The thick leather worn by the Harad had turned aside his already blunt and bloodied blade. Neither warrior paused for breath. Their blades clashed time and time again. The metallic ring was cold and mocking to Theodred, though by no means unfamiliar. The combat was fast and furious, never-ending, death always looming nearby.

"When will you realise you_ cannot_ defeat me?" his enemy asked in harsh, guttural tones as their weapons locked.

"When you can _prove_ it."

The Haradrim soldier let out a bitter, rasping laugh. Theodred pushed him back. He took a moment to regain his footing before both went in for the kill, simultaneously.

The clash of a blade being turned aside, the sound of steel slicing through armour and flesh, a suppressed cry of pain. Theodred and his opponent fell to their knees, locked together, eye to eye.

"There's your _proof_," one muttered.

They were close enough for Theodred to hear the man's heavy breathing; close enough to see the cracks in his war paint.

The fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever.

-----

**A/N:** Hey! Hoped you liked this and sorry it took so long to write. I'm not the best writer in the world when it comes to action, but let me know what you think of my attempt in a review please! Many thanks for reading!

the green lama


	11. Chapter 11: Cruel Anxiety

**Chapter 11: Cruel Anxiety**

The birds had stopped singing. The woods seemed unnaturally quiet, as if the gloom of Mordor now covered the whole of Middle Earth, masking any cheer or warmth in the sun's rays.

Suddenly, fleetingly, the quiet was pierced by a heart-rending cry of pain and grief. It was the cry of one to whom the silence had seemed all the colder.

Mithra was shaking uncontrollably, sat up in bed, her hair and her nightclothes damp with sweat against her skin. She lay down again slowly, having been cruelly thrust from slumber by a particularly terrifying nightmare. It had been many nights since she'd slept soundly. She hadn't, in fact, since Theodred had left her.

He was ever the topic of her thoughts.

Clutching her blankets closely about her, Mithra used the corners to dab away the tears on her cheeks, and tried in vain to block out the images that had just flashed through her mind.

The dream had been horribly real. The pain that she had seen in his face had broken her heart, though not nearly so painfully as watching the light in his eyes extinguished.

* * *

"My lady, you must help me!"

Galadriel cast her unusually solemn eyes over Mithra's tearful face. The Elf-maiden had practically fallen into her superior's arms in her grief.

"Mithra, how did you come to be like this?"

No answer was needed. Galadriel knew that Mithra had barely stopped crying since the departure of the Rohirric prince she held in such high regard. Taking her by the arm, Galadriel sat her down, and she spoke softly.

"You know what I would have you tell me."

"I do."

"Then please do not hesitate! Tell me of Theodred! I shall be driven mad if I do not soon hear of his fate!"

Galadriel looked away from Mithra's eyes as she spoke. "I know that victory was obtained in Minas Tirith for the Gondorians and their allies."

This news barely touched Mithra. "So?" she asked desperately. "What of Theodred?"

Galadriel didn't move for several seconds before turning solemnly back to Mithra.

"I do not know."

Her voice was barely audible, and now a tear trickled down her cheek also. Mithra did not notice.

"How?" she exclaimed. "How can that be?"

"I am afraid I can give you no explanation."

As Galadriel looked into Mithra's eyes, the younger Elf knew she was not being deceived. She became conscious with a vague twinge of guilt of the lady's own trials and sorrows, but could not apologise for any selfishness she might have shown.

Wordlessly, Mithra left.

* * *

A week passed in Lorien, with time dragging on just as it had been for weeks. The sky grew darker, the great storm cloud of Mordor stretching even so far as the fair Elven woods.

Mithra's hopes and fears had not changed, only were mingled now with an ever growing sense of anxiety, not just for Theodred, but for all the races of Middle Earth, all those who were fighting in the south for a peaceful land that was free of Sauron's evil.

For the second time, she was driven eventually to Galadriel to seek news of her loved one.

The Lady of the Woods was surrounded by her handmaidens when Mithra found her, and watched her distraught young friend throw herself down on to her knees before her. Eleniel was present also, and an exclamation of surprise escaped her lips. She swiftly knelt on the floor beside Mithra and folded her arms around her, letting the tearful head rest her shoulder.

"Why do you still weep, Mithra?" she asked in concern.

Galadriel opened her mouth to answer, but before anything could be said, a mighty rumble echoed through the woods and the ground shook. Mithra looked up in surprise and reached for something to steady herself before she was shaken off the edge of the flet. The mallorn leaves rustled and the branches swayed as the ground shook many feet below them.

"What's happening?" one of the maidens asked, and all looked to Galadriel in confusion and fear as the trees around them became still once more. Then, for the first time in months, the fair features that had been sorrowful for so long were brightened by a magnificent smile.

"Do you not feel it?" she asked, her joyful voice delightful to be heard.

A strong breeze suddenly blew through the woods, carrying with it a strong aroma of ash and smoke that passed quickly by. Now they stopped for thought, the females around her knew why she was so cheerful.

Eleniel was the first to say anything.

"_Victory_."

Mithra felt a great weight lift from her heart, and she couldn't help smiling too. "Frodo!" she exclaimed. "He has succeeded!"

All of a sudden, the sun seemed to shine out brighter than she remembered it ever had, the air seemed warmer, and the woods were alive with sweet birdsong. She was surrounded by bright triumphant faces, none more so than Galadriel herself.

However, Mithra's joy passed quickly.

"But do you know yet of Theodred?" she asked urgently, the tears of seconds ago still glistening on her cheeks.

Both Eleniel and the lady faced her suddenly with unreadable looks.

"Then have you not yet heard?"

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with me if you're still reading this. I know it took me a ridiculously long time to get this chapter written, sorry for that, but it was very dull to write! However, I felt it was necessary. Let me know what you think and leave me a review! Thanks again,

the green lama


	12. Chapter 12: Elessar

**Chapter 12: Elessar**

"Well, sire?" Gimli's face was the picture of pride. "What do you think?"

The recently crowned King Elessar surveyed the new gates of Minas Tirith with a warm smile. The mithril embedded in the tall wooden structures gleamed in the midday Gondorian sun, and he nodded slowly.

"An excellent job, my friend."

The dwarf beamed at the team of his kinsmen he had directed in building the gates. "And that is high praise indeed." He turned next to the figure stood beside the King. "What do you say to that, horse-master?" he asked of the young man soon to be crowned King of Rohan.

"Very impressive, I confess," he replied with a smile. "I had not believed," he said to Elessar in explanation, "That they would be quite so special as the Dwarves claimed."

"A typical man of Rohan," Gimli muttered, but the King of Gondor simply smiled at him.

"My lord!" They looked up as one of the armour-clad guards above the gates called down to them. "A party of riders approaches!"

Elessar turned quickly to look in the direction pointed by the guard, and a wide grin spread across his features as he recognised them. "Elves!" he exclaimed.

"Of Lorien?" Gimli asked quickly.

"It is very likely." The King glanced at his Rohirric counterpart. "I believe you stayed in Lorien?" he asked.

Theodred nodded with a smile. "Indeed I did, sire."

"Then there will, no doubt, be some among them who will be glad to see you again."

"I hope so," the younger man replied quietly.

Before long, Lord Elrond could be seen riding at the head of the column, and Lady Galadriel and Celeborn Theodred recognised by his side, magnificent smiles on all faces. One dark-haired female rider was bearing a banner of the White Tree of Gondor, and, had he been paying attention to him, the Rohirric prince would have seen Elessar gazing at her in awe. There was only one face he was looking for, however, and she he could not yet see.

"Greetings, Elessar, King of Gondor," called Elrond as they grew near.

The addressed bowed courteously. "And welcome to you, Lord Elrond of Rivendell, and to Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien."

The elegant visitors began to dismount and the leaders greeted the Gondorian monarch. Theodred stood a little behind, feeling humbled not for the first time by the kingly, gracious man in front of him.

"Strange, aren't they?" Éomer was standing just behind him, and muttered a comment in his ear. "They seem unearthly, like ghosts."

"Or angels," Theodred murmured in reply. His cousin gave him a strange look, but the soon-to-be king was oblivious. He had picked out who he had been looking for.

"Theodred!"

A slender Elven figure detached herself from the main group and ran towards him before flinging herself into his open arms. "Oh, Theodred, you won't believe how much I've missed you!"

He didn't say anything, only kissed her lovingly, there where all could see.

Both Éomer and Elessar stared at the couple in amazement and disbelief.

"Mithra." Theodred whispered her name as they parted.

"Cousin?" Éomer asked, gazing at the Elf-maiden Theodred held in his arms.

His cousin simply laughed. "Yes, Éomer. There's something I didn't tell you about my time in Lorien." He looked back to Mithra, smiling widely, before saying something softly that only she could hear. "There, I fell in love." And he kissed her again, her clinging to him desperately.

"And if you ever leave me again, you'll regret it," she warned him softly.

Elsewhere, Elessar was sharing a similarly romantic reunion with Arwen Evenstar, and the Gondorian onlookers clapped and cheered. Any of their northern neighbours that happened to be present were too dumbstruck to do so for their own monarch.

"Well, Rohan," Elessar said to Theodred later as they walked up through the city to the halls of the King. "We seem to have yet more in common than I had suspected." He smiled at the Elf-woman that walked hand in hand with him.

"_Rohan_?" Mithra repeated. "You are King now?"

"Not officially," he told her quietly, "I have yet to be crowned, but my father was killed in the battle."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "I had not heard."

"Theodred!" The Gondorian King called suddenly. "Before I forget, I have something of yours that must be returned," and he led them away into a building Mithra quickly recognised as the stables, to the stall of a remarkably tall, fine war horse.

"Brego!" Theodred exclaimed.

Elessar smiled as the young man rushed to the animal's side and it nuzzled his hands affectionately. "I have ridden him since my time in Rohan," the once-ranger told him, "And he is a most fine and faithful beast. I return him now to his rightful owner."

"He's glad to see you," Éomer said with a grin.

Mithra watched her lover in amazement. There was a look of relief and fondness on his face that she only seen before as she'd fallen into his arms outside the city gates. The Elves had a great liking for animals, but the love the Rohirrim had for their horses would always astound her.

"And I can see Theodred is happy to see him," she said to Éomer, a man to whom she had only minutes ago been introduced.

Theodred glanced up at her with a smile. "I most certainly am."

* * *

"I love you, Mithra. Did I tell you that?" 

Mithra smiled at the young Rohirric man as she stood hand in hand with him at the very end of the courtyard overlooked by the halls of the King. "Several times within the hour," she replied, "_Sire_."

He grinned at her. "I do apologise."

"That's quite alright, _my lord_."

"Would you pleasecall me by my name? I am not king yet."

"You will be, though, as soon as you arrive in Rohan."

He reached up a hand to gently touch her cheek, tracing patterns on her skin with his rough fingertips. "And every king needs a queen."

Mithra froze, gazing into his dark eyes.

"Will you be my queen, Mithra?"

She said nothing, but leant forward and let her head rest on his shoulder. Theodred's face fell.

"What's wrong?" he asked quickly in concern.

"I had hoped you would leave longer before asking that question," she muttered in a voice so low it was barely audible.

"Why?"

"So I can put off answering it for as long as possible."

She lifted her eyes to look into his and he saw that they were filling with tears. "Of course," he said slowly, realising the reason for her grief. "There is the matter of your immortality, and my being a mortal man."

She looked down again. "I don't know what to do."

Theodred sighed bitterly. "A certain poem comes to mind," he said, "A song that I recited to you when we first met."

"Beren and Lúthien," she said softly.

Neither Man nor Elf said anything following this, but Theodred held Mithra close to him. He had asked her to marry him on the spur of the moment, putting no thought into this choice that followed for her, and now he regretted bringing such a decision into her mind.

Slowly, softly, he began to chant the words of the poem Mithra was so familiar with:

'_Again she fled, but swift he came._

_Tinúviel! Tinúviel! _

_He called her by her elvish name;_

_And there she halted listening._

_One moment stood she, and a spell_

_His voice laid on her: Beren came,_

_And doom fell on Tinúviel_

_That in his arms lay glistening.'_

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it! And you didn't really believe I'd kill off Theodred, did you? Please write me some more of the encouraging reviews I love getting (or some not so encouraging ones, if you really want to), and I'll upload the final two chapters for you! Thanks again for reading! 

the green lama :-)


	13. Chapter 13: Mithra's Decision

**Chapter 13: Mithra's Decision**

Mithra stole silently down through the city of Edoras, her soft leather shoes making no sound on the stony ground. Weeks had passed since Theodred's proposal, and the large party of Elves, Humans, Hobbits and even the occasional Dwarf had reached Rohan on their journey north. Theodred had been crowned King of Rohan immediately after the funeral of his father, and Mithra temporarily shared his rooms in the Golden Hall, her kindred camping outside the city walls with the rest of the travellers. 'Camping' was a word used loosely, as the little village of tents was by no means an unpleasant place to be. Tonight, however, Mithra was on her way to see the Lady of Lorien.

She knew for certain that Galadriel would not be asleep, though her companions had long since retired. Mithra often visited the Lady during the night, and, sure enough, caught sight of her quickly after slipping out of the city gates.

She stood by the glowing embers of a campfire, staring intently into the glowing orange heart of it, absent-mindedly drawing patterns in the ashes with a long stick. She glanced up at Mithra as she approached.

"I knew it would not be long before you came to me," she said softly.

The younger Elf stood opposite her. "I do not know what to do." She looked into the Lady's eyes, and saw in them sadness and pity.

Galadriel sat down slowly on a wooden bench, motioning to Mithra to fill the empty seat beside her. "I cannot make your decision for you," she said.

"I do not ask you to."

"You come to me for help, and help you I shall, to the best of my abilities." She paused and sighed deeply. "You have two options. The first is to marry Theodred: become Queen of Rohan and live a brief but happy life, giving up your elven immortality to be with him. The second is to remain an Elf-maiden: to dwell with your kin in Lorien and some day pass across the sea and into the West, never to see him again."

A tear rolled down Mithra's cheek, but she said nothing.

"You know," Galadriel continued, "Rumanas the healer warned me that this would happen the first day your young man arrived in Lorien. I did nothing, however, and to this day am still not certain whether I was right or wrong to do so."

Had Mithra heard? It did not seem so, but she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"If I stay with Theodred," she began, "I will be his wife and his queen until the end of his short life, when I will follow him and die a mortal woman, any others of Elven kind long having made the journey across the sea. I love Lorien, and I love living among the Elves, but with no Mathas and no Theodred, my life will be like those sorrowful few months in-between one's departure and the other's arrival."

Galadriel watched her out of solemn eyes. "Do you love him?" she asked softly.

"I do."

"How much?"

"He is dearer to me than life itself."

The Lady raised an eyebrow. "Literally?"

"I have yet to decide that."

"Mithra." Galadriel embraced her tenderly, like a mother holding her daughter. "This choice is one that cannot be avoided, and one that cannot be made for you. In the end, it comes down to your love for Theodred, and how far your love can stretch."

She paused, looking into Mithra's eyes sadly.

"In your heart, you have always known the right path to take. All that now remains for you to do is reveal it."

* * *

"Theodred! Theodred!"

Mithra shook him awake gently, but he rolled over with a groan.

"Wake up!"

She shook his shoulder more firmly now and his eyes opened slowly at last.

"Mithra?" he yawned, his sleepy eyes squinting at her in the dim light. "What time is it?"

"That's not important."

The solemnity of her voice made him sit up quickly. "What's wrong?"

She looked at him sadly, reaching for his hand. "I have made my decision," she told him softly.

"And?" His breathing was quickening anxiously. "What do you say?"

"I will remain with my kindred."

Her eyes were wet with tears as she broke the news to him.

"Then I respect your choice," he said, "Though it breaks my heart."

"I am sorry, Theodred. I cannot leave my people."

"I know."

He quickly swept her up in his arms and clutched her tightly to him, kissing her passionately as his lips found hers, but she pulled away quickly.

"You make leaving harder for me!"

"I cannot help but do so."

And, looking into his eyes, she saw them gleaming with tears.

"I don't suppose I'll ever see you again, then, will I?" he asked.

"Don't you understand that this will also break _my _heart?"

"Then why are you doing it?"

She didn't answer at first, but avoided his eyes when she finally did so. "I cannot leave my people," she said for the second time. "That would also break my heart. I belong with them. I believe I am doing the right thing."

Theodred said nothing more, but nodded slowly, and lay down again, as did Mithra, after removing her cloak and boots. To her surprise, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair affectionately.

"What are you doing?"

"Enjoying what time I have left with you." She smiled sadly through her tears; this was typical Theodred. "I will find no more rest tonight, but having you close to me makes things seem better."

She kissed his lips softly. "Very well, my King."

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**A/N:** This is the penultimate chapter, I hoped you like it even if you don't agree with Mithra's decision. The ending will be up shortly, but write me a review and it'll be up quicker! Please, even if it's only a few words! I don't think I'll attempt a sequel, but if you've got any interesting ideas, please let me know. Many thanks and much love,

the green lama


	14. Chapter 14: Homeward Journey

**Chapter 14: Homeward Journey**

It was a warm, sunny day in Rohan, and not four hours had passed since the regal party of Elves, Men and Hobbits had lost sight of Edoras over the horizon. The gloom of the departure had long since disappeared, and the riders were entertained with songs of the Shire, care of Merry and Pippin.

Galadriel's eyes had rarely left Mithra since leaving the city. The new King of Rohan had simply been permitted to kiss the hand of his departing lover, but the Lady of the Wood suspected the couple had bid their real goodbyes behind closed doors, as hinted the eyes of Theodred as he watched Mithra leave.

Mithra herself had not spoken a word since "Farewell," to Theodred, but simply stared into the distance with a look of great sorrow upon her fair visage.

Galadriel only diverted her attention from her as she was approached by Arwen, another whose eyes had been trained on the same sorrowful subject.

"Why did she do it?" the newly married Queen of Gondor asked quietly. "Why did she leave him?"

Galadriel shook her head solemnly. "I do not know." She paused and glanced at Mithra. "She came to me for advice, but I could give none. Perhaps she should have gone to you."

"I could have given her no advice, only tales of my own happiness with Elessar."

"But would that have been bad for her?"

They exchanged glances.

"I would never have expected her to choose as she did," Arwen continued. "She seemed very much in love with Theodred."

"She was, and now it seems she still is."

The Elves exchanged glances again, before both turning their eyes back to Mithra.

Suddenly, she stopped her horse and let out a cry of frustration. Many around her stopped to stare in amazement, but she rode to Galadriel, her chest rising and falling quickly and her eyes wet with tears.

"I knew this would be hard," she said, "But I did not think it would be quite so painful."

She looked back in the direction they had just come, her face openly displaying her longing and grief.

"It is not too late," Galadriel began slowly, "To change your mind."

The younger Elf thought to herself for a moment, before turning back to her superior with a sigh.

"You were right," she told her softly. "The answer was always in my heart, but I did not reveal it."

Arwen's face was a picture of amazement, but Galadriel smiled mysteriously. "There is nothing for you in Lorien," she said. "Your future is in Rohan, and I know you will be happy there."

Now a glorious smile spread across Mithra's face. "Thank you," she said, her voice a mixture of joy and relief that was wonderful to hear. Still on horseback, she embraced Galadriel, and her superior smiled fondly as they parted.

"I wish you every blessing for the future."

"And I bid you a fond farewell."

And, flashing them one last magnificent smile, Mithra shouted to her horse and galloped back from whence they had come, her long hair streaming out in the wind behind her.

"You will make a wonderful queen," Galadriel said.

Then, as she watched Mithra ride away, the Lady of Lorien began to chant softly:

'_As Beren looked into her eyes_

_Within the shadows of her hair,_

_The trembling starlight of the skies_

_He saw there mirrored shimmering._

_Tinúviel the elven-fair,_

_Immortal maiden elven-wise,_

_About him cast her shadowy hair_

_And arms like silver glimmering._'

**THE END**

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**A/N: **So here we are, finished at last. I'm sad to have Risen over and done with -- I've been working on this story for ages. I hope you liked the happy ending! I do, as I couldn't bear for my two heroes to be separated.

My next fic will be a King Kong one, up soon, I hope, so, if you're a fan of the film please take the time to glance through that!

Thanks for sticking with me to the end, all of your reviews have been greatly appreciated, and I look forward to any final ones you'll be generous enough to leave me!

Lots of love,

the green lama


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